Prodigal Father
by Bandearg Rois
Summary: After The Prophecy, what else does Fate have to throw at him? REPOST added a prologue and went over mistakes. Harry/? SLASH and child abuse warning in later chapters.
1. How the Story Really Begins

Disclaimer: Don't own anything... X-Men belongs to Warner Bros and Marvel, HP belongs to J.K. Rowling and Warner Bros.

Pairings: Unknown as of yet, but definitely slash at some point.

Author's Note: I finally got the energy to write this again, and realized that my prologue wasn't really a prologue, and some things could have been explained better. So I submit my new Prologue and reworked chapters for your perusal.

Summary: After the Prophecy, what else does Fate have to throw at him?

Prologue: How the Story Really Started

As the doorknob turned, James couldn't feel the latent magic of the wards, which usually let him know who was coming over – not that many people actually came to visit them, as the house was under Fidelus. He was suddenly glad that Lily was putting Harry to bed, as he pulled his wand out and waited. As the door opened he knew exactly who was coming in and yelled at Lily to get out of the house, to get Harry to safety. By the time Voldemort stepped through the door, James was in a very defensible position at the bottom of the stairs, still yelling at Lily. He was felled quickly by a minor curse from the other wizard, and was pushed into unconsciousness as green light filled his rapidly fading sight.

He woke hours later, rubble surrounding him, to see Lily's hand sticking out from a pile near him. Harry was nowhere to be found. He pulled the rubble from his wife, who stared up at him with sightless eyes. Thinking Harry was dead, he left the rubble, tears falling freely as he disaparated.

He traveled for a year until he ended up in America, putting himself forward for an experimental procedure that only he could survive. When he woke, he was Logan, and James Potter was lost to the storm of his mind, damaged by the pain caused by the experiment.

A/N2: Yeah, it's short, but some of the reviewers had been asking why James would leave Harry to the Dursleys. If this is not sufficient, I apologize.

Read and review!


	2. Depression and Discovery

Disclaimer: Don't own anything... X-Men belongs to Warner Bros and Marvel, HP belongs to J.K. Rowling and Warner Bros.

Pairings: Unknown as of yet, but definitely slash at some point.

Author's Note: Got the bug when I was reading some X-Men crossover fanfiction... I know the deal has been done before, but never like this (I hope). And yes, my writing is dark at times, simply because HP should have been rated R for dark themes and violence... AU after OotP, and AU as to Origins and parts of Logan's canon past. Also, Scott never died.

Summary: After the Prophecy, what else does Fate have to throw at him?

Chapter 1: Depression and Discovery

Harry Potter looked around his small room at the Dursleys, wishing that somehow this year would just... pass him by. He was turning 16 in less than ten minutes, but he... he wanted to be 17, to finally become his own person.

But even if time did inexplicably skip, he wouldn't find that freedom. Too many people needed him; and it wasn't just that they needed _him_, not really. It was the image of perfection, of their savior, the one person who would never turn his back, no matter what. And the terrible thing was, he couldn't turn his back. No matter what happened to him, what they did or didn't do, he _couldn't._

Hermione had called it a 'saving people thing,' and for a long time, he'd foolishly gone along with that assumption. But he'd been blind, a foolish child, wanting to believe that he was needed for _him_, for what _he_ could do, and had done.

But there comes a day, as the saying goes, that everyone finds their purpose, what they were created to do. That day had come for him. Less than two months ago, he'd lost one of the last ties to his family, and found his destiny in the same night.

The Prophecy. By themselves, two very inoffensive words, but when applied to a person, more importantly _him_ (he deserved to be a little selfish), they became a prison. A tiny room in his mind where all the frustration and darkness hid and festered. How he sometimes longed to be Neville, that their situations were reversed, that he didn't have to be the one with this burden...

The clock struck midnight and his world was swallowed by pain.

~*~Elsewhere at that same moment~*~

Charles was awake late, as usual, trying to help piece together a puzzle known as James Loga, when Cerebro alerted him a discovery; a young man in Britain was manifesting as a Class 8 feral mutant, the strongest class possible. The signature was familiar, much liike Logan's but also like Victor Creed's, suggesting that he was feline in character.

He sent out a mental call to Logan and Scott, asking them to come to his lower level office. They joined him minutes later, a mix of irritability (Logan) and sleepy concern (Scott) on their faces.

I've discovered a Class 8 feral in Surrey, England. I'd like you to go speak with the young man, find out what his situation is, and possibly bring him here for training in adapting to his new abilities." He'd asked these two for a reason. Logan was most able to handle another feral, and Scott was his main recruiter for the school besides Jean, Scott's wife.

"What's he look like?" Logan asked, looking interested despite himself.

"I have a picture of him at age ten. There aren't any more pictures after that, as if he fell off the grid." The photo was grainy, looking like it was taken at a hospital; the little boy had scraggly black hair and big green eyes, as well as hollows in his cheeks speaking of malnutrition and mistreatment. "It is possible he was adopted, but the address is the same now as then, so I doubt it."

"How could someone do that to a child?" Scott asked softly.

"People are monsters, too, Bub," Logan answered, his voice softening into a slightly more British tone, which surprised Charles, for the man had a hard Canadian brogue at most times, implying that he had lived in North America all his life. Charles filed that away for later.

"He's unconscious right now, but I think you should get over there to him. His name is Harry Potter, and he lives at 4 Privet Drive, Surrey." Logan's eyes flashed, and Charles caught a wisp of a thought 'Lils,' before it was swept away into the maelstrom of Logan's mind. "I'd like you to leave as soon as possible."

They were gone within an hour.

A/N2: So, what did you think? I'll be happy to hear criticism on my writing, if I can ever get the reading reviews right on ... but TTH works fine so... And don't worry, a lot will be explained in the next chapter... or will every answer spawn more questions? Find out... and Review please. I have the first chapter written and the second in my head... Hopefully this bunny will hang around long enough to spawn a muse, so I don't run out of juice.


	3. Discovery of Powers Unknown Pt 1

Disclaimer: Don't own anything... X-Men belongs to Warner Bros and Marvel, HP belongs to J.K. Rowling and Warner Bros.

Pairings: Unknown as of yet, but definitely slash at some point.

Author's Note: This is largely unchanged, as is the first chapter... I will be picking up from here.

Summary: After the Prophecy, what else does Fate have to throw at him?

Chapter 2: Discovery of Powers Unknown Pt. 1

Harry woke slowly, gingerly hoping he wasn't going to be aching. What he discovered was a strange languidness, as if his bones were almost not the same as they had been, and he had extra joints. He opened his eyes and looked at himself. Nope, all limbs still the same shape and intact (funny how his priorities were stacked).

Then he really looked at himself, and realised that he was different, not enough to make much of a stir, but enough for him. His arms and legs had a fine coat of down fur, nearly invisible unless you were looking for it, and as he flexed his hand, his nails elongated to claws, then back to nails.

"Wicked. Weird, but wicked," he murmured, lisping slightly. His teeth were different too. He carefully moved to his mirror, and finally realized what was really bothering him; he wasn't wearing his glasses. His eyes were the same green they'd always been, only now the pupils were slitted, like a cat's. Also, his canine teeth had elongated slightly, meaning that he had to speak carefully so as not to cut his tongue.

"What am I?" he said to the empty air. Then he remembered overhearing a news report on the telly about a group of Muggles, who had extraordinary gifts, none of them attributed to magic. He went over to the phone on his desk, an extra line that he's forced the Dursleys to add so he could cal Hermione, and dialed her number.

"Granger residence, this is Mary speaking, how may I help you?"

"Miss Mary," he said slowly. "Is Hermione awake yet?"

"Oh Harry! Yes, dear, just give me a moment to fetch her from the study." The phone was set down, and soon he heard Hermione's voice on the other end.

"What is it Harry? Happy Birthday by the way. Are you still coming over for lunch?"

"I'm not sure, honestly... What can you tell me about mutants?" He could almost feel Hermione's eyebrows raise, and snickered; she was thinking about books she'd read or editorials, he was almost sure of it.

"Well, they're humans... a genetic key, I guess you'd say, causes them to manifest special powers at puberty or in moments of high stress. Why?"

"I think I am one." The phone dropped and suddenly Hermione was in his room, looking shocked. "Bloody Hell, Hermione... You just apparated through an Apparition ward!" He found that he could see bits of the ward still clinging to her, trying to pull her back out, and growled. The gossamer pieces shrunk away, leaving her be, fading as they went. "Okay, well, you just destroyed an Apparition ward."

"Harry... You're a mutant." He almost laughed; she looked so... befuddled. He guided her to the only chair in the room and sat her down, plopping down on the floor next to her, laying his head in her lap. He purred as she absentmindedly stroked his hair, then spoke.

"Harry, this is highly unusual. Wizards just don't become mutants; there's no precedent."

"I've survived a Killing Curse, Mione. One can say I'm not normal in anything," he said irritably, almost cutting his tongue on his teeth. He pulled away to glare at her, a part of him wondering at his purely animalistic reaction.

"I'm sorry, Harry. Do you still have magic, do you know?" As she asked the question, he could feel something inside him, like an echo of his outward self, flowing through him. He lifted a finger and his bedroom was suddenly clean, the bed neatly made.

"Yea, I think I do." His brain suddenly woke up, quite quickly. "The Ministry! We have to get out of here, Mione! I almost got expelled last time someone did magic in this house! Well, at least when there wasn't a mass murderer on the loose. And it was Dobby that did it that time too! We've gotta go! He's probably already been alerted of the ward breaking!"

With a thought, everything he valued was neatly in his trunk and said trunk was in his pocket, shrunken down to fit. He then grabbed Hermione by the arm and willed himself to Gringotts.

"Why here?" Hermione asked, perplexed. He looked around and found one of the Goblin desks, pulling her toward it even as he answered her question.

"Gringotts is neutral; here is no Wizard authority here. As long as we are here, we're safe. I need to think of something, a solution." He stepped up to the desk and put his key on the desk before the slightly irritated goblin.

"What can I do for you today, Lord Potter?" the goblin asked grudgingly. Harry balked for a moment, then, thinking quickly, came up with something.

"I need to speak with my account manager, sir," he said quietly. "My accounts are in disarray and I need to inventory my things." He could see Hermione gawking at him out of the corner of his eye, but ignored her. The goblin took his key, felt it for a moment, then pressed a button on the desk before him.

"One moment, Mr. Potter. Rankle, your manager, will be with us shortly." Another goblin soon appeared, and looked him over critically before beckoning him through a side door he hadn't noticed before.

"Lord Potter, I thought I'd see you soon," he said without preamble as soon as the door closed behind him. "As you are now Scion of House Potter, we need to go through and make a thorough accounting of your assets."

"I'm sorry, Mr. Rankle, I'm not sure what you're talking about," Harry said honestly.

"You were not schooled in your responsibility to the Great and Noble House Potter?" The goblin looked genuinely confused. "And no need to call me Mr. Rankle. You do, after all, outrank me in every way." Harry looked at Hermione, who suddenly had a calculating look on her face.

"That utter bastard," she said in a dazed voice. "He never set you up with lessons?" Harry shook his head, confused. "maybe you should have made friends with Malfoy, Harry," she said, looking suddenly angry, whether at herself or someone else, Harry didn't know.

"What do you mean. Mione?"

"I believe Miss Granger is referring to the fact that you were never taught about your duties as an Heir," Rankle said quietly.

"Heir?" Harry was stunned. He knew that his dad's family was old, but that didn't mean he _knew_.

"Harry," Hermione said gently, bringing his attention back to her. "You are the Scion of House Potter." Then she thought a moment. "Wouldn't he be the Head of House?

"No. He is not the Head, yet. As his father's death was not confirmed to Gringotts' specifications, he is not the leader in the financial sense. He is acting leader until such time as his father is ascertained to be dead, or transfers the role to him by word or deed."

"So, my dad could be alive? Rubbish. He died the same night my mum did. I'm sorry Rankle, but you must know the story by now, having lived in this world much longer than I," Harry said skeptically.

"There was no body found at the scene, just your mother's body and you," Rankle said. "Therefore, until we see a body or have evidence that he passed on, we cannot term him dead."

"What about Sirius Black? Is he considered dead?" Harry asked with a dim light of hope in his voice."

"Unfortuantely, all persons who have gone through the Veil in the Department of Mysteris are lost to this world, dead or not, and are therefore considered deceased under Gringotts law. We will also have to speak about you inheritance from him at some point in the day." Harry couldn't help it; he had just found out his dad wasn't considered dead, that his godfather was actually gone, and that he was Heir to a very rich family, with more inherited from another. He fainted.

~*~4 Privet Dr, At The Same Time~*~

Scott looked up at the house where this boy lived, feeling Logan's nervous form beside him. The older man had managed a nap on the Blackbird, but it was plagued by rather loud nightmares, most of which Scott heard. He had a feeling there was more to this than anyone knew, and resolved himself to be ready for anything.

The house was rather ordinary, with a nice garden, and a nice sedan parked in the driveway. He steeled himself and knocked on the front door, shooting a look to Logan in hopes that the man would understand that he wasn't to talk.

"BOY! GET THE DOOR!" he heard a male voice shout from the back of the house, and expected the door to be answered. "BOY! WAKE YOUR LAZY ARSE UP AND ANSWER THE DOOR!" Scott was already almost certain that he would not like the owner of the voice.

The door was finally opened by a woman a little older than him, with the unfortunate resemblance of a horse. She glanced at him, then at Logan, then stopped and stared.

"You're dead!" she whispered harshly, holding the door for dear life. "You died! How are you here?" She promptly fainted. A large pig of a man came to the door, saw her on the floor, and looked at them.

'YOU!" he bellowed. "YOU CAN'T BE HERE! OFF MY PROPERTY THIS INSTANT!" Logan tensed beside him, but instead of growling and attacking the man, he simply spoke in a pleasant British accent.

"Vernon. How lovely to see you again. Where is my son?" Now Scott was really confused.

A/N: sorry to disappoint you Harry/Logan shippers (I'm normally one too), but while there will be slash, it will not be them. Also, any and all questions raised by this chapter will hopefully be answered in the next one (you can ask them anyway, I don't mind). It won't be H/Hr either, sorry folks. On another topic, Goblins are amazing creatures, are they not? Please review!


	4. Revelations of a Personal Nature

Disclaimer: I don't own X-Men or Harry Potter, which belong to Marvel and J.K. Rowling, respectively.

Pairings: Unknown at this time

A/N: Here's Chapter 3, finally finished, as has been promised for months now… Hope you like it.

Warnings: Don't know if I mentioned this before, but this is AU as to Wolverine Origins, X-Men 2, and books 6 & 7. Don't expect much of it to resemble what you've seen before, and if you do recognize anything, it is completely unintentional. Also, all information about mortgage and Muggle/Wizarding Bank relations is completely made up and probably entirely wrong.

Summary: After the Prophecy, what else does Fate have to throw at him?

Chapter 3: Revelations of a Personal Nature

Harry woke up laid out on a chaise, with Hermione sitting anxiously near his head, and a strange woman hovering over him, reminding him disturbingly of Madame Pomphrey. He shifted away from her, and then sat up abruptly as memories rushed back. He looked at Rankle, who still sat behind his desk, but had a concerned look on his face. At least, he thought so; Goblins were notoriously hard to read.

"How long was I out?" hew asked quietly.

"Half an hour," the Healer said brusquely. "I'm not sure why Rankle called me, you're perfectly fine." She nodded at the Goblin and swept out of the room without another word.

"My Lord Potter, if you're recovered, maybe we can continue?" Rankle looked as unruffled as ever as he shuffled some parchment on his desk. Harry quickly resettled into his seat and waited patiently. "Here is a list of recurring withdrawals that have begun since your move to the Muggle House you own." Harry took the rather long list, and looked up as the last words penetrated his brain.

"I own 4 Privet Drive?"

"Yes. Before your mother died, your uncle took out a mortgage on the home. The bank was Gringott's Muggle counterpart, and as such, your mother was informed. She bought the lien, and as it was only paid from your accounts, it defaulted. You own the house.: Harry thought it sounded complicated, but Hermione nodded, so he figured it was correct. He looked through the list and saw bills paid for tutors when he was a child, and numerous other monthly expenses for things he'd never seen.

"Um… I've never met this tutor, nor anyone else being paid on this list," he said slowly, looking to Hermione and Rankle.

"Would you like to have these withdrawals stopped?"

"I'd like to look at all withdrawals and transfers not made by myself or Hogwarts tuition since I was born," Harry said finally. The list was produced and he was shaken by the amount of money that had been taken. The only withdrawal that made sense was made by Mrs. Weasley when she got his school things and the dress robes. The name on the majority of them was Dumbledore's, and that was harder still to take. And it wasn't only money; family heirlooms, including the Sword of Gryffindor, were also on the list.

He wordlessly handed the list to Hermione, and watched as her expression turned from horror to anger, and finally to indignation. He imagined if she had a tail, it would be twitching. Some of the recurring expenses were legitimate, to estate managers and the like, as were some of the others; even magical properties needed physical repairs every once in awhile, after all.

"How legitimate are Dumbledore's withdrawals and transfers?" Harry asked.

"Very suspicious. Before his disappearance, your father authorized a small quarterly transfer to Dumbledore under the understanding that it was to be used for a specific, unnamed purpose. That transfer has continued and since grown. The others were created by Dumbledore on behalf of Sirius Black, your magical guardian."

"Okay. The original transfer can stay, at the original amount. The others are to be frozen and audited for legitimacy. If they are legitimately needed, they can resume. The estate transfers and any repair orders can continue as normal."

"Very well, My Lord. May we continue to your titles?"

"Titles?" This time it was Hermione who fainted.

Logan's memories were returning with startling speed. Just seeing the neighborhood was bringing them back. He woke Petunia with a negligent wave of his hand and led the way into a tasteful sitting room, forcing the Dursleys to occupy the couch and directing Scott to a chair.

"I'll ask again; where is Harry?"

"Upstairs," Petunia squealed from where she was mashed between Vernon and her son. Scott went upstairs and returned moments later with a murderous expression on his face.

"Why are there locks on the outside of his door?" the normally mild-mannered man asked menacingly. Logan Apparated upstairs and saw what Scott meant; there were 5 locks and a cat flap on the door of the third bedroom door, which was empty but for furniture and broken toys. His nose flared as he took in the scent of his son, and he walked back downstairs, where he smelled it again, older and musty, from the cupboard under the stairs.

"PETUNIA!" he roared, reentering the room. "How could you lock your own flesh and blood in a cupboard? And then in a bedroom nearly as small"" The woman shrank back, tears in her eyes. Vernon tried to look menacing while seated.

"Now, see here, you-" Logan Silenced him.

"Yes? Me what? Me, his father? Me, the man who can flay you alive? Where. Is. HARRY?"

"He was in his room after dinner," the boy said quietly. "He went in after taking a shower. Haven't seen him since."

"Thank you." He suddenly realized that it was July 31st, Harry's birthday; his 16th birthday, the same birthday that his own powers had manifested. "We have to find him," he said to Scott, who was still scowling at the family. "Now." He then waved his hand, releasing all of the spells and dragging Scott out of the house. When they were back in the rental car, he explained all that he knew. He parked in front of a music store on Charing Cross road and led Scott by the arm into the Leaky Cauldron, which had obligingly appeared.

"Why here?" Scott asked as they went into the alley behind the pub.

"I need to see if Harry has opened any of the properties," he answered, before tapping the bricks and dragging the dumbstruck man to Gringotts, where he demanded to see Rankle, only to be told the Goblin was in a meeting.

"Tell him James Harry Potter needs to see him now," he said quietly. The Goblin promptly led them to a meeting room. Inside, Rankle was meeting with two teenagers, a boy and a girl. The girl was just waking up from apparently fainting.

"Lord Potter," Rankle said, coming around his desk to bow.

"Dad?" the boy asked quietly, standing. Logan felt like he was looking in a mirror, albeit a feline one.

"Harry," he said thickly, tears stinging his eyes. He suddenly had an armful of sobbing teenager, and he gathered his son closer, reveling in his scent.

A/N2: So, this is Chapter 3, hope you liked it… Read and Review please?


	5. Explanations and Surprises

Disclaimer: I do not own X-Men or Harry Potter. They belong to Marvel and J.K. Rowling respectively (and whatever movie company owns them still does).

A/N: I am glad someone told me that there is another story like this out there; it kind of takes a little pressure off while putting more on, because since I don't know what story that is, I don't know if I'm copying or seeming like I'm copying, but I'm also not a trailblazer (I've got enough of that with my Percy Jackson/Harry Potter story). (Update: Just found one that has Logan as Harry's father, but it doesn't look to be anything like mine, so I'm safe. *wipes forehead*. It's called 'Like Father Like Son')

To firebird-fenix: Since you didn't sign in or leave me a way to get ahold of you, I'm answering your review, since you might not have read my warnings in the previous chapters. This will not be Harry/Hermione, as has been previously stated. I'm not trying to be mean, but I have stated at least once in each chapter, as well as in the story description, that this will be slash: that is, boy/boy action. Not to say that there will not be any het, but het will not be the main pairing. Also, who is 'old ork'?

To J.K. Rowling: Again, as you did not sign in, I am going to answer you here. First of all, the real Joanne would not have the time to read regular HP fanfiction, let alone crossovers with other media. So thank you for the correction, I will take that into account, but you should not try (even in jest) to impersonate someone who would honestly just not care. And if the only thing you can say about my story is that I made a mistake in spelling (which happens way more often than you'd think for everyone, even if it doesn't make it to the finished product), I'm doing pretty damn good. So thanks.

CrazyDisasterForKicks: You did sign in, but I'm pretty sure the subject you brought up is on every reader's mind: what will the Harry pairing be? I can tell you it won't be Harry/Bobby, since I have other plans for our resident Iceman, but as for the other two that you mentioned, you'll have to wait, and since we're not heading back to the Institute for a while, that wait might get a mite long. Thanks for reading!

Pairings: Unrevealed at this time

Summary: After the Prophecy, what else does Fate have to throw at him?

(Trying something new): In our last installment:

_"Lord Potter," Rankle said, coming around his desk to bow._

_"Dad?" the boy asked quietly, standing. Logan felt like he was looking in a mirror, albeit a feline one._

_"Harry," he said thickly, tears stinging his eyes. He suddenly had an armful of sobbing teenager, and he gathered his son closer, reveling in his scent._

Chapter 4: Explanations and Surprises

(Harry's POV)

"What happened?" Harry finally asked, after they finally broke the hug and he stopped crying. His father explained his actions over the last 15 years, and the way his mutation had saved him.

"But why didn't you come back?" Hermione asked. "When you woke up, why didn't you stay? You could have cleared Sirius and kept Harry from going to the Dursleys."

"I thought he was dead."

"Did you even check?" Harry asked quietly. James looked surprised, as if the thought had never occurred to him. "Glamour Charms are easy for casual use, and even Americans have heard of me." Harry couldn't believe that this man, who was so strong in magic, and had survived a Killing Curse, a shot to the head, and numerous other things, was able to rationalize his complete abandonment.

"I completely cut myself off from the Magical World. The memory of it was too painful."

"Well, that's just fine and dandy!" Harry exploded. "You had a son! A responsibility, a Merlin-damned responsibility, to your own flesh and blood! Not to mention to a man that was practically family! How is that responsibility outweighed by your own selfish pain?" When James looked like he was about to open his mouth, he threw up a hand, claws extended.

"No! You had to know that everyone would suspect Sirius! Peter was the last person on that list, and managed to be pretty clever in the end of it all, cutting off his finger and blowing people up to add to the 'crimes' Sirius had committed. You had no right to abandon him! And less than that to abandon me!" Hermione tried to calm him, but he gently pushed her away, and stood up, towering over his seated father. "What do you have to say?"

"I'm sorry. I made a mistake."

"This is not a spill on the carpet! This is not burnt food! This is not just an 'oops' you can just gloss over! I needed you, and it took manifesting powers to get you to come back!" He subsided, tears in his eyes. "I needed you."

~*~(Logan's POV)~*~

He was stunned by the vehemence coming from his son, and all of it was true. He HAD abandoned the only family he had left, blood or no. He had fled the death of his wife, the woman he had loved since he was a child, and left his son to the tender mercies of his sister-in-law and her whale of a husband. And he really had no excuse. But he didn't know how to fix it.

"What do you want me to do?" he finally asked, frustrated. He growled at Scott's reproachful look and was surprised when an answering growl came from his son. He looked over and Harry was pacing the office, growling under his breath. The girl was trying to soothe him, but it wasn't working. He wondered about that relationship, but didn't voice it; he had enough to do what with earning forgiveness.

"Logan, you're telling me this is your son? I mean, I can see the resemblance, but where did all of this come from?"

"Summers, you know what? You're not helpful at all."

"You didn't tell him anything?" Harry asked, appearing in front of them like smoke.

"I told him about our world. I suffered from memory loss for the last 13 years; how would I have been able to tell him about you?"

"You could have told me on our way here," Scott muttered, settling further into the chair.

"What do you want me to do?" he growled, more frustrated.

"Be a father! Don't just sit there and whine! Take up your life and fix what you did wrong! Clear Sirius's name, even if it's posthumously!" Harry ranted, hands in his hair.

"Sirius… Is dead?" He was stunned. Sirius had been closer than a brother since they were children, and the thought of him being dead was staggering.

"He died protecting me! Because you weren't there to turn to with my troubles, and so I had no one!"

"If he was protecting you…"

"He was a fugitive! I wasn't even allowed to talk to him unless we were in the same house without an emergency, and when I did try to talk to him, Kreacher lied to me and left me to believe I was alone and had to fix it myself."

"I'm sorry, Harry. It was my fault. But I can't be James Potter again. After 15 years, if he comes back, he'd probably be thrown in Azkaban faster than Snivellus got out."

"Hey, Snape's a good man. Maybe not nice or anything, but a good one. And you may not remember it, but the things you did to him were not cool. You might as well have driven him to the Death Eaters in the first place!"

"What are you talking about? We may have pranked him when we were younger, but-"

"You humiliated him in front of the entire school on numerous occasions, and you tried to kill him! Well, okay, that was Sirius, but I'm sure the only reason why you saved him was to protect Remus. And your image as the good boy. Thankfully Snape turned spy, or else we'd have been killed in our beds, instead of being able to have a semi-normal life for at least a few months."

"Look, I said I would be a father, but I can't be James Potter. I'm Logan now. Ask him."

"Hey, I'm just a spectator. But for the record, he's been with us for 2 years, and I don't know the man sitting here right now."

"Watch it Bub, you're still a dick." Scott laughed, but Harry and the girl still looked mutinous.

"If I may interrupt?" Rankle cut in delicately. Logan had forgotten the Goblin was there, at least consciously, and almost jumped. "My Lord, you can claim your title without the wider world being made aware of it. You can appoint your Scion as financial manager so that all orders are in his name."

"Thank you Rankle, but I think it's more important to fix my family than my finances."

"But, Dad, Dumbledore's stolen over a million Galleons from us. Tutors, nannies, dressers, anything you can imagine for a highborn wizard, the money for it was taken from the vaults. But there were none of those in my childhood. The Dursleys got a monthly stipend for taking care of me, that went straight to Dudley's every whim. I never saw a whit of it, and it was huge."

"Is this true?"

"Yes, My Lord. The Headmaster was using authority at the behest of Sirius Black, who had been in prison. As a Goblin, I could do nothing to prevent the fraudulent and wasteful withdrawals. Young Lord Potter has already taken steps to rectify the problem, and has done a pretty good job of it, for someone with no knowledge of how to carry out his responsibilities."

Logan was at a loss. What was he supposed to do? Family was more important than anything, but his family was telling him to take care of business… "I authorize my son, Harry James Potter, Marquess of Rosen, to act in my stead for all financial decisions. His word is as mine and to be taken as writ. So Mote It Be."

"So Mote It Be," Rankle and Hermione answered, Harry looking nonplussed. Thankfully only one Goblin and one human had to witness this particular rite.

"Lord Rosen, you are now the voice for all financial decisions relating to the Potter finances. If you accept, of course," Rankle said. Harry nodded, and then seemed to realize that verbal confirmation was needed.

"I, Harry James Potter, Marquess of Rosen, accept the responsibility of voice for all financial decisions relating to and benefiting the Potter family and all vassals thereof." Logan was shocked, but then he realized the girl had hastily scribbled something on a piece of scrap parchment and held it up for him to read. "So Mote It Be."

"So Mote It Be."

"So if you can't be James Potter again, then what do we do?" Harry asked, finally seeming to calm down. It was Scott that piped up.

"How do you feel about America?"

A/N2: Okay, this one got away from me totally, but this will not be the last of the argument between Logan and Harry. It's truncated right now because of the overwhelming need to have a plan.

Just because Scott asked about America doesn't mean they are going immediately… There's still the question of whether Logan will go after Dumbledork or not.

A/N3: So, one of my reviewers, loretta537, gave me a great idea for an outtake, and when I asked her if I should go for it, she said yes. So this is for loretta.

Outtake #1: Reactions and Revelations

Minerva McGonagall was enjoying a morning in Diagon Alley before she had to accompany the new Muggleborn students and their families through the stores to get their supplies. She had just left Fortescue's, which was open for tea in the early hours, and was headed to the bookstore; a new mystery novel had come out recently, and she was frankly excited to crack it open.

To her surprise, Severus Snape came strolling out of the Apothecary, headed toward Knockturn Alley. Normally she would have just gone on, but his expression boded ill for anyone he didn't know who might run into him without a buffer.

"Severus!" she called softly, as his hearing was better than most, and she didn't want to bring undue attention to either of them. The tall man turned, and almost smiled upon seeing her, though anyone else, even those who professed to know him well, would be hard-pressed to recognize it for anything other than indigestion.

"Minerva," he drawled. "To what do I owe this… dubious honor?"

"I thought you might like some company. Were you heading to the other apothecary?"

"I might be able to spare some time for meaningful conversation," Severus said, smirking.

"Well, I myself was heading for Tifwits after I stopped in at Flourish and Blotts. Would you care to join me as a small detour?" She really did like the lad, and suspected that she was his only friend. Albus was a mentor, yes, but there was also the history between the two men, and the slight blackmail that the older one employed. She was simply Severus's friend, no strings attached, though their rivalry for the Quidditch Cup was legendary, even outside the academic community.

"I suppose I could accompany you to Flourish and Blotts, though I have no need of a new wardrobe, and so will not follow with Tifwits." She smiled and led the way toward the shop, which was not terribly busy, as it had just opened.

Before they reached the storefront, however, a commotion arose from near the London entrance of the Alley. Two men were making their way rapidly from the tavern to Gringotts, one being pulled along by the arm. What was most surprising was the man doing the dragging.

"What in Merlin's name are they playing at? That man has been dead for years!" Severus said archly. For indeed, it looked as though James Potter, dressed in the clothing of a Canadian frontiersman, was dragging a redhead with matching sunglasses dressed in Muggle clothing through the Alley.

"I'm not sure, maybe we should-" before Minerva could finish her statement, the duo had disappeared through the doors of the bank. "-Wait for them to emerge from the bank."

"No." Severus strode toward the bank doors and inside, and Minerva had to scramble to keep up. Once there, the men were being led away by a goblin. He went to another Goblin nearby and asked their identity. Minerva was speechless; James Potter had just dragged an unnamed Muggle through the middle of Wizarding London, and then into a private account meeting. What on Earth was going on?

"This is not funny in the least; that man is dead and has been for the last 15 years. You are certain it was James Potter?" Severus asked in a low voice. The Goblin gave him a look like he was a piece of candy or dirt stuck to his shoe, and just nodded. Severus looked stunned, and for good reason. Minerva was quite aware of the struggle the Potions Master had gone through to see past young Mr. Potter's heritage, and here he was being smacked in the face with the evidence of it. It had to be a bitter pill to swallow.

A/N4: Thank you to all of my readers for the lovely reviews, and I would like them to continue, though they are not required for me to continue writing. They just make awesome snacks.

Ta!


	6. Discovery of Powers Unknown Pt 2

Disclaimer: Don't own anything... X-Men belongs to Warner Bros and Marvel, HP belongs to J.K. Rowling and Warner Bros.

Pairings: Unknown as of yet, but definitely slash at some point.

Author's Note: So this is Chapter 5

Summary: After the Prophecy, what else does Fate have to throw at him?

In our last installment:

_"So if you can't be James Potter again, then what do we do?" Harry asked, finally seeming to calm down. It was Scott that piped up._

_"How do you feel about America?"_

Chapter 5: Discovery of Powers Unknown Part 2

(Harry's POV)

"America?" Harry had never even thought of changing countries; he had been born and raised in Britain, and the thought of leaving was a little daunting. He looked at Hermione, and smiled at the look in her eyes. That girl was always thinking about learning, and America had to have a lot of new things to learn.

"Your father and I work at a school for mutants," Scott said quietly.

"But Hermione can't come, can she? She's not a mutant." Harry didn't want to sound like a little kid, but Hermione was his only friend in the Wizarding World. Ron was great, but he had too much jealousy, and Harry suspected he was spying on him for Dumbledore.

"If her parents say she can, we have a program similar to an exchange program," Scott answered. "And I don't think she's just a Witch."

"Well I know I'm not a mutant," Hermione said, a sad look crossing her face before she shook her head. "But Mum and Dad shouldn't have a problem with me going to a summer studies program, especially if I can convince them that it's a normal thing for Hogwarts students and that Harry is going, too."

"Well, Summers, you take Hermione to convince her parents. Harry and I have something we need to do." Harry almost didn't like the look in his father's eyes, but part of him was rejoicing; something would finally be done about Dumbledore. He finally realized that in the back of his mind, a presense had been itching to kill the old man ever since he'd found out about the withdrawals.

"What are you going to do?" Hermione asked quietly; Harry should have guessed that their tones and expressions hadn't escaped her.

"We won't do anything… permanent," Harry soothed. "At least not physically." Her expression didn't change. "I have to do this, Mione. You know that." She nodded; the man had kept him from his heritage and left him with those people. "Okay. So you go with Scott to your house, and Dad and I will meet up with you later. We'll be okay, I promise." She nodded and hugged him; for a moment he was reminded of Mrs. Weasley's suffocating hugs before he was finally released.

"Okay. Just… be careful, won't you?" she said, and he knew she would worry regardless, until she saw him again.

"Definitely." He turned to his father. "How will we get to Dumbledore?"

"Portkey to his office, I'd expect," his father answered. Scott and Hermione left the room after getting promises that they would meet up in Muggle London.

Rankle created the Portkey; Gobklins were the only creatures that could create untraceable ones, due to the nature of their magic. Harry grabbed onto the Portkey, closing his eyes in preparation. He hated the feeling, especially after the Last Task. His father (he didn't know whether to say Logan or James, even in his head) grabbed on as well, with a similar expression.

~*~Logan's POV~*~

They landed in the office, surprising the old man, who stood immediately, wand out, until he recognized them.

"James?" he asked, voice full of surprise, and suspicion.

"Hello, old man," he said pleasantly, seating himself before the desk and motioning Harry down as well. He couldn't help but laugh in his head; if anyone at the Institute could see him, they'd be very surprised that he wasn't clawing first and asking later. "You must know why I'm here."

"To be truthful, James, you're dead, so no, I have no idea."

"You knew I wasn't dead, you knew about my mutation. You knew I had run, and so you took advantage. Why did you steal from me? And why did you put Sirius in Azkaban without a trial. You were Chief Mugwump, even back then, you could have pushed for it."

"My boy, I only did what I could," Dumbledore started, and Logan just unsheathed his claws, the 'snikt' loud in the otherwise silent room. He heard Harry snort beside him, and smirked.

"You could have done much more, Albus, you didn't because no one was going to stand up and hold you accountable for your actions. And that was partly my fault; I ran away and didn't try to find anything out. But I'm going to tell you now, you need to take accountability for yourself."

"My boy-" he tried to say again.

"Shut up," Harry said, his own claws lengthening. "You never really tried to help me. You said you were 'protecting' me, but I didn't know anything about my responsibilities, as a Potter or as a wizard. Those tutors were never there, Dumbledore. Why did you do that?"

"For the Greater Good-"

"Fuck your Greater Good!" Harry yelled, standing up, and Logan felt that part of him should stop him, but this was entertaining. "Fuck your Good, especially when it leaves a little boy to the 'loving care' of his relatives, who starved him and abused him, and no matter what was said, by anyone, he was forced to return there, year after year. And you lied to the World, told them I was safe, and happy, and being tutored in the things I needed to know. Your Greater Good is just a cover for being a Machiavellian bastard."

"Now, Harry, you can't know, couldn't understand-" At this, Logan growled. Harry might have promised his friend they wouldn't physically hurt the man, but Logan hadn't participated in that oath, so he had no qualms about doing it. He launched himself over the desk, the claws on his other hand coming out as well, and he landed with one set of claws buried in the desk, and the other one was inches from the old man's neck.

"Don't talk to my son like that, old man," he growled. "I admit I wasn't here when I was supposed to be, but you were here and did nothing to help him. Unlike you, I'm prepared to take action. Now, Harry's going to make sure that you don't get any more money from us, and the Goblins are going to make sure you pay back what's already been taken. And if you continue with your shit, I'm going to make sure you don't get anything ever again. Do you understand?"

"Y-yes, yes, I understand. Please remove your… claws from my throat, if you would. Now, about the upcoming school year-" The claws had been retreating, but returned full force at those words.

"Harry's not coming back to this school, at least not while you're Headmaster."

"Harry must-"

"Harry must do nothing, especially if it's you saying it. He's coming with me to my home; if needs be,. I'll hire someone to teach him, one on one. He WILL come with me, as I'm his father." He returned to the other side of the desk, idly sparking his claws together.

"But… you're legally dead," Dumbledore said nervously.

"In both Worlds, yes. But did anyone think to check with Gringotts?" Dumbledore's eyes widened. "Exactly. But don't worry, I'm not planning to come alive or anything. I've got a life in the American Muggle World, and I don't intend to leave it."

"But if Harry does not return to Hogwarts-"

"If I don't return to Hogwarts, what?" Harry said, glaring at him. "What plans do you have for me this year? Am I going to be attacked by a dragon? Oh wait, that already happened. How about the Dark Lord? Oh wait, that happened, too. No, Professor, I'm going to go with my Dad, and you're going to leave us alone." He turned and looked at Logan. "I knew we should have brought Hermione with us. She'd have convinced him."

"She would? Thought she wasn't a mutant."

"Miss Granger is a mutant?" Dumbledore said, intrigued.

"Don't even think about it, Bub," Logan said harshly. "You have no power over us, and she's under my protection. If I hear anything about your idiocy continuing, I will pay you another visit, and next time, I won't restrain myself." He stood and took hold of the Portkey again, motioning Harry to do the same. Before he said the activation word, he calmly sliced through the old man's desk, cutting it into multiple pieces. "Portal."

They appeared in an alley in Muggle London, not far from Hermione's house. Harry led him to a smallish house, that looked not much different from the others, except he noticed the star in one of the upstairs windows, a clear indication that at least one of its inhabitants was magical.

They were let in by a nice looking older woman, and led into a small lounge area, where Scott and Hermione sat with Scott and an older man that must have been her father. They sat down, and Harry accepted the offer of tea, while Logan denied it.

"So, this is like an exchange program?" Mrs. Granger finally said, looking apprehensive at having two strange men in her house.

"Exactly," Scott said. "We have students from around the world, and they usually only stay for a semester or two. For Hermione, this would be a summer program, though we do have an excellent magical curriculum as well, if she finds she likes it there, and if you agree. Our school is year-round for some students, as we have a large amount of orphaned children, who have nowhere else to go. Hermione would essentially learn a whole new culture."

This was why Scott was the teacher, not Logan. He wouldn't have been able to get that out without messing some of it up. He leaned back in his chair and noticed that both parents were staring at him.

"This is Logan, he teaches conceptual art at the Institute, and he's also in charge of our security system. It's more to keep the children from leaving the grounds at night; our area of Rochester is nearly all forested area, and there are wild animals in the forests."

"Well, Hermione shouldn't have much of a problem with the animals," Mr. Granger said, blithely ignoring his wife's incredulous look. "I don't see why she can't go visit, especially if Harry will be there. What do you teach at this school, Mr. Summers?"

"Call me Scott, please. I teach maths, all the way from elementary or primary school, well into your A-school programs."

"See, Janet, this will be a good thing! You have been worried about her falling behind in her regular schooling, and this way she can continue both! And it's not like we don't have the money to visit if she decides to stay! And these men seem to be upstanding chaps. I approve."

"I… Well… Well, all right. But we'll need updates on her grades and such, just like any school. What about her visa?"

"We can take care of that once we get to the Institute," Logan said, knowing this was where he needed to step in. This was taking too long, and if they didn't get back to the school soon, Dumbledore was likely to catch them before they even left Britain. He had no delusions that their little 'talk' with the old man would do any good; he was too fixated on Harry being the saviour, and under his control.

"How?"

"We have ties with the government," Scott said hastily. "Since we have our own planes and runway, we send in the paperwork from the school in order to get the paperwork pushed through on both sides. We'll just need signatures from you on a consent form, which I have out in the car, and we'll be all set on this side of the pond."

Once the paperwork was pushed through, Logan waited for her to finish packing, and then shrank it all for her so that she wouldn't have to lug around nine bags of books and two of clothes. Harry already had his things, so it was time to go. Hermione had a tearful goodbye and then they drove to the small airfield where the smaller of the Blackbirds was parked.

Once there, they ran into a group of wizards, who were laying in wait. Dumbledore was faster than he thought.

A/N2: So, is Hermione a mutant? And what's going to happen with the wizards at the plane? And what else, besides that, does Dumbledore have planned? Find out… in some later chapter.

Next time:

"_Stop talking them to death and fight, Hermione!" Harry yelled, claws lengthening as he prepared to go against the wizard opposite him._

"_But violence isn't the answer!" she wailed, almost immediately ducking a flash of light that might have been a Stunner. _

"_It may not be the answer, but it damn well helps!" Logan yelled, before launching himself with a growl._


	7. New Country, Old Fight

Disclaimer: Don't own anything... X-Men belongs to Warner Bros and Marvel, HP belongs to J.K. Rowling and Warner Bros.

Pairings: Unknown as of yet, but definitely slash at some point.

Author's Note: So this is Chapter 6, hopefully you like it.

Summary: After the Prophecy, what else does Fate have to throw at him?

In our last installment:

_Hermione had a tearful goodbye and then they drove to the small airfield where the smaller of the Blackbirds was parked._

_Once there, they ran into a group of wizards, who were laying in wait. Dumbledore was faster than he thought._

Chapter 6: Violence Isn't the Answer

(Harry's POV)

This was not good. He hadn't wanted a fight, but it seemed that they would have to either way. He wasn't too surprised though; Dumbledore was not one to let go of an asset, no matter what others' feelings were on the matter.

"Now, now, can't we all discuss this like normal people?" Hermione asked, and Harry knew what she was going to do. The first time she'd done it, she'd touched the man, but he didn't think she was limited to that. Her eyes slowly bled blue, far from their original cinnamon color. "We don't need to fight about this, do we?" Some of the wizards were nodding, agreeing with her level-headed idea, but others were shaking their heads, as though something was irritating them. "Let's just have some tea and sit down, shall we?"

Harry was astonished. One of the wizards had actually gone so far as to create a table and chairs so that they could sit, before he was smacked on the back of the head by one of his fellows. The others who had been hypnotized also got slaps, and Hermione sighed.

"We should really talk about this. Violence solves nothing." The wizards just got into battle formation.

"Stop talking them to death and fight, Hermione!" Harry yelled, claws extending as he prepared to go against the wizard opposite him.

"But violence isn't the answer!" Hermione wailed, almost immediately ducking a flash of light that looked like a Stunner.

"It may not be the answer but it damn well helps!" Logan yelled, before launching himself with a growl.

The fight was quick and dirty. There were only ten wizards, not nearly enough to go against four mutants, even if one of them only had the power of suggestion. Harry sliced quickly through the first wizard, not allowing himself to react as the man died screaming. He moved on quickly, sending a cutting curse at the next one. Hermione had sent a Blasting Hex at the one who'd tried to Stun her, leveling the man to half his original size in moments.

Logan didn't bother with magic, launching himself from one wizard to the next, slicing cleanly through skin, muscle, and bone. Scott stood back and just blasted the ones that were trying to circle around. The fight was over in minutes, and none of the wizards had escaped with their lives. Harry had gotten hit with a cutting curse, but it had healed in moments, the blood on his fur the only sign that it had even happened.

They quickly cleaned up and got on the plane, leaving the bodies for whoever was going to come. The flight was long, and boring. Harry got some amusement out of making fun of his father's flight-sickness. He still hadn't fully forgiven Logan, but since the man had done more for him than anyone else thus far, he was willing to try.

"Harry… Am I a mutant, too?" Hermione asked, about an hour into the flight. Harry sighed. He'd been expecting this to happen since the Department of Mysteries fight. "What I did back there, is that my mutation?"

"I think so. You did it to Dolohov, you know, got him to leave you alone, to go away. I think you've got some kind of hypnosis, only it's stronger when you touch someone."

"Oh. Do you think my parents would understand?" she asked, tears in her eyes.

"I think they might. I mean, they accepted that you're a Witch, which has no science to back it up, and at the heart of them they're academics; this is something proven to be real." Harry hoped he was right. Hermione loved her parents, and if they didn't accept this, it would crush her.

"Regardless, you've got time," Scott said from the pilot's chair. "You'll be with us in America for at least a few months, if not for the school year. You can tell them after awhile; it doesn't have to be immediately after you find out." Hermione seemed to settle at that, and Harry was grateful to the man.

"So, Dad," Harry said, changing the subject as they hit a bit of turbulence and the older man grunted and closed his eyes. "Need a bucket?"

"Shut up."

They were flying over NYC, only a few minutes from Rochester and the Institute, when the plane was hit with something that didn't show up on Scott's scanners. The plane bucked, and the tail shredded off. Harry immediately grabbed for Hermione, who had gotten up to get something from the back of the plane, and pulled her into him tightly. Scott had already tried leveling the beast, and when he couldn't, he put on a parachute, throwing one to Logan and another one to Harry, who still had a hold on his friend. Between the two of them, they got it on, and all of them jumped.

They landed in a wooded area, and Logan was immediately blasted into an old-growth oak, which uprooted the tree and knocked him out. Scott got a shot off at one of their attackers before he, too, was taken out of the fight. Hermione jumped from Harry's arms and dragged Scott over to Logan's prone body, standing over the both of them in preparation for the fight to come. Harry raced over after cutting himself free from the parachute and grabbed Logan's communicator, hoping for an answer.

"Help, please! Anyone please! Logan's down, Scott's out, too. Please!"

"…wish ya indentify… Wolvie's comms?" a heavily accented voice replied, and Harry felt immense relief.

~*~Remy's POV~*~

Remy was monitoring the communications while Logan and Scott were off in England. He and Storm had been taking it in shifts, since Jean wasn't allowed in the comms room at all and none of the youngsters were calm enough to handle the silence.

"-elp, please! Anyone, please! … down, Scott's … " The transmission was garbled, but the speaker sounded young, too young to be Logan.

"Gambit wish ya identify y'self," he said once the transmission paused. "Why you usin' Wolvie's comms?"

"… Potter,… son. Professor…" The transmission staticked out for a moment.

"Location, Potter?" he said, mentally alerting Charles that there was a problem.

"East …tral Park. …the City." He had no idea what that meant, but hopefully Charles would.

"Stay calm, 'niappe. Help be on de way. Gambit out."

"…very much. Hermione!..." The transmission cut out completely, and Remy was heartened when Nightcrawler came in and told him Storm was running the rescue.

"Tell Gambit you know where go, mon cher," he said to her as he flipped switches to keep their communications online, and also to record video.

"Central Park East, NYC. A couple of minutes away. Everyone ready?" Remy duly recorded the ready check and opened the hangar doors. Once the jet had gone, he settled back into his chair and prepared to wait. Unfortunately, he was never one for patience. Even though only two minutes had passed, he'd already tried to pull up Logan's transmitter again, but with no luck. "Landing in 5… 4… 3… 2… Landing now."

Gambit nearly threw his earpiece off when screams and explosions filled the audio feed. "Wha's goin' on? Someone give Remy a idea wha's happenin'!"

"A big battle," Nightcrawler said, sounding slightly out of breath. "Lots of lights and screaming. There seems only to be one more mutant besides Wolverine and Cyclops, both of whom are out of commission. This new mutant is like Wolverine… but more like Sabertooth." Remy was surprised, and dismayed. Wolvie was all right, but Victor Creed, Sabertooth, was a menace.

"How you mean, like Sabertoo'?" he asked quickly.

"Ferocious, natural. But not a killer. None we've found are dead, only incapacitated." Remy marveled at the use of such a large word, but then he realized something.

"What you mean that you found, mon frère?"

"I am on the edges of the battle. It seems this mutant was late for the party and had to fight their way through. As we will. Leaving the line open." That meant he had a fight, so Remy let it go, trying to find someone closer to this new mutant. He was surprised when Charles rolled into the room.

"Remy, this new mutant… His name is Harry Potter. I suspect that he is Logan's son, though I have no true proof of that yet. If you'd like, I can get Nightcrawler to come get you so you can join the fight."

"No tanks, Prof'ssor," he said with a smile, pulling out a pack of cigarettes and lighting one. "Remy got all he need right here. De others can figh' this one wit'out me, oui?"

"Yes."

"Den I stay put." It was simple. He only liked to fight if it was absolutely necessary, or it suited him, and right now, he'd rather smoke his cigarette and listen and watch than actively be in the battle.

"Very well." Charles smiled his secretive smile, and rolled himself back out of the room. Remy turned his attention back to the feeds, happy to finally get a good look at what was happening. Lights were streaking around all over the place, along with screams of pain and terror. Bobby happened to be near the new mutant, and Remy directed him to watch closely, so he could see, too.

The teen was small, like Logan, but not nearly as muscular. He was covered in pale fur except for his hair, which was jet black and hung to his shoulders unbound. He move like Death incarnate, whirling like a tornado around his victims; for however armed they were, he was clearly superior. Blood flowed from every wound inflicted, but no one was dying; the boy seemed not to notice that, though. He finally let Bobby get back to what he was doing and searched the feeds for Logan.

Logan and Scott were laying prone next to an uprooted oak tree, a slip of a girl crouching over them with a feral look on her face, knife in one hand, stick in the other. She was obviously protecting them, but from what Remy could see she had no mutant powers. At least until a large branch flew up from the ground and skewered an enemy. This girl was obviously not as careful as the other mutant, having no qualms in killing those who would do the same to her.

Storm finally reported the official end of the fight when the last enemy was downed, though there were pockets of resistance everywhere. "We have them, they're safe," she reported soon after.

"See you when you get home, Stormy, mon cher," he replied cheerfully. Jean had not been awake when the summons went out; either that or Charles had deliberately not told her about it, so he called her into the comms room for a shift and jumped his way down to the hangar, to wait for the team's arrival. This would be good.

A/N2: So the whole thing from Remy's POV was written yesterday, since it had popped into my head and I didn't want to lose it. I just had to figure out how to get them as far as Central Park.

Did that answer any questions? Or just raise more? Well, see ya next time.

-Ta!


	8. The Institute

Disclaimer: Don't own anything... X-Men belongs to Warner Bros and Marvel, HP belongs to J.K. Rowling and Warner Bros.

Pairings: Will be Bobby/Hermione, at some point, but the verdict's still out on Harry's relationship. Sorry.

Author's Note: So this is Chapter 7, and they are firmly in the X-Men world now.

Summary: After the Prophecy, what else does Fate have to throw at him?

In our last installment:

"_See you when you get home, Stormy, mon cher," he replied cheerfully. Jean had not been awake when the summons went out; either that or Charles had deliberately not told her about it, so he called her into the comms room for a shift and jumped his way down to the hangar, to wait for the team's arrival. This would be good._

Chapter 7: Meeting New Mutants

The Blackbird settled into its place in the hangar, and Remy had to back away of risk getting burned by the engine backblast. The first group off the plane were Hank, Storm, and the two unconscious X-Men. Logan was slowly waking up, though, so Gambit knew if couldn't have been that bad. Following them was the girl that had been protecting Logan, her long curly hair, which had been lank with blood, clean and pulled into a ponytail at the nape of her neck. Following her was the new mutant, also cleaned off. Remy moved forward, bypassing the medical group, and cornered the two teens.

"'Ello, 'ello, the name is Remy LeBeau. Who might you be?" he asked, while bowing gallantly to both of them. The girl wrinkled her nose in amused disgust, while the boy looked at him with something akin to fascination. Up close, the boy's emerald green eyes were flecked with silver and slitted like a cat's, while the girl had the deepest brown eyes he'd ever seen.

"I'm Hermione Granger, and this is my brother Harry Potter." Remy had heard that this boy was the one who had been discovered in England, and he was surprised at the appearance. "Pleased to meet you."

"And you, 'niappe," he answered, eyes laughing as her nose wrinkled in slight confusion before she let it go. "C'n I show you anywhere?" He barely dodged a head-slap from Nightcrawler, who was coming down the ramp with the rest of the new X-Men. Bobby was laughing.

"Leave them alone, Remy," Kurt said, letting his hair down from his ponytail. "Come on, we'll go see Logan and Scott; Logan should be getting on Hank's nerves soon enough." Remy's face fell as the two waved at him and followed his blue friend toward the medical facility.

"Which one?" a soft voice asked from behind him. He turned to see Bobby standing there, also watching them.

"Wha' you mean, frère?" he asked curiously.

"Which one caught your eye?" He could tell that Bobby had a crush; even someone without empathy would have seen that one coming. Ever since Marie had disappeared following the 'cure' incident, Bobby had been at loose ends, and Remy knew his eyes were following the girl.

"I mighta' been married, frère, but I can say dat dat fille is no' my type. I was more lookin' at the garcon, if only jus' to look."

"I think he's Logan's son."

"Dat cain' be tru'!" he said, surprised.

"Why not?"

"'Cause when Logan ran wit' Remy for a bit, long time ago, he said all his family dead."

"Before or after…"

"Befo'. I met him righ' befo' he lost de memories, so I don' know no mo' den dat, and I tol' 'Im as much."

"Want to get something to eat?" Bobby asked, changing the subject. Remy nodded and led the way to the kitchen; sooner or later, everyone in the mansion ended up there, anyway. After a few hours, Logan led the two teens into the room, and by that time, Bobby had gone to bed and Remy was playing solitaire, charging the cards once he'd won, making the deck explode, and pulling out a new deck to start over. Jubilee had been trying to watch the game, but had gotten bored, and was shooting fireworks out the French doors and into the night.

"Wolvie, Remy been worried dat somethin' finally got you dis time," Remy said, putting down his cards. They exploded. He'd accidentally charged one while he was talking. The furry teen laughed, and even the girl had a smile on her face.

"Nothing can get me, Cajun, and you know it," Logan retorted, pulling out two root beers and handing them to the teens. Remy stood up quickly, pushing himself away from the table. Logan's voice wasn't the rough half-purr he was used to. This was a clipped Upper-Middle Class British accent. This wasn't Logan. He felt the hairs on the back of his neck raise, and his cards floated obediently off of the table, charging with purple energy.

"Who be you, and where be Wolvie?" he asked, even as his memories were bringing up Logan from years before, the man who was running from something painful, and so had changed everything about himself.

"I'm Logan, you overgrown swamp rat!" the man said, and that edge of a growl was the same. Remy felt himself calm down even before he'd decided to, and looked to see the girl gently touching his arm. Her eyes were glowing blue, and she was smiling sadly at him.

"It's a lot to take in, I know. But it really is him. Now why don't we all sit down and have a nice chat over our root beer?" When she released him, her eyes returned to normal and she looked a little sad, like she hadn't wanted to do that. She began to argue with the boy almost silently, with the ease of long friendship.

"Sure, we can do dat," Remy said, knowing he'd been played somehow, but going along with it.

"What de hell happen' Logan?" he asked seriously. Logan looked at him for a moment before sighing heavily.

"This is my son, and his friend. Harry, Hermione, this is Remy LeBeau. Never play cards with him."

"But he was playing Exploding Snap," Harry protested, distracted from his argument with Hermione.

"Explodin' Snap?" Remy had heard of the game Snap, but never a version where the cards were _supposed_ to explode.

"Wizarding card game," Logan answered dismissively. "His kind would probably hurt more than just singing your eyebrows." Remy had a feeling he would like this other version, but shook his head softly to rid himself of the distracting thought.

"So since when you have famillie, mon ami?" he said, leaning back in his chair against the wall and accepting the beer Logan passed to him.

"Thought he was dead," Logan said shortly, ignoring an annoyed glare from Harry. "You remember back then right?"

"Remy was only 20, of course he does," he answered derisively. "You say your famillie was dead, and somethin' else went wrong back home, so you was leavin' it."

"So you didn't know anything either. Did you trust _anyone_ Dad?" Harry asked, and Remy got the idea that if he had a tail, it would be twitching.

"Do you trust anyone besides Hermione?" Logan shot back, and Harry ducked his head, submitting.

"Well, Remy thinks it's time to turn in," he finally said, not wanting to get in the middle of a family dispute, no matter that part of him wanted to stay and protect the boy at the table.

"'Night, swamp rat," Logan said, not looking away from his son. Remy nodded and finished off his drink before leaving the room, his cards floating up and decking themselves before he caught them and put them in his pocket. Tomorrow was another day, after all; maybe he'd be able to get the boy alone for a talk.

~*~Logan's POV~*~

He watched Remy walk out of the room, not liking what he smelled but unable to do anything about it. Harry and Hermione had gone back to their silent argument, but both were yawning, and they could barely keep their eyes open.

"Finish your root beers, and I'll show you to your rooms," he said, finishing his own beer. The kids groaned, but nodded, and he called out to Jubilee. "Jubes, you wanna show Hermione to the room?"

"Sure, Logan!" she said enthusiastically. "Scott already told me you're rooming with me so I cleared my stuff from your side of the room. Come on!" Hermione followed the brightly dressed girl, and Harry stood to follow Logan. Logan led him up to Bobby's room, which was meticulously clean, with an empty bed due to Pyro having left them for good. Harry didn't bother unpacking, he just collapsed into the empty bed and fell asleep.

Logan went back to his own room and wondered what the next day would bring, before falling asleep, waiting for the nightmares to come. He wasn't disappointed.

A/N2: Again, this was halfway prewritten, and the next chapter will probably start with Dumbledore's POV. But that won't be out til tomorrow, so you won't know til then.

Night night, don't let the bedbugs bite, and thanks for reading!


	9. Friends and Lovers

Disclaimer: Don't own anything... X-Men belongs to Warner Bros and Marvel, HP belongs to J.K. Rowling and Warner Bros.

Pairings: Will be Bobby/Hermione, at some point, but the verdict's still out on Harry's relationship. Sorry.

Author's Note: So this is Chapter 8, and maybe, just maybe, Harry will find a friend. Besides Hermione, of course.

Summary: After the Prophecy, what else does Fate have to throw at him?

In our last installment:

_Logan went back to his own room and wondered what the next day would bring, before falling asleep, waiting for the nightmares to come. He wasn't disappointed._

Chapter 8: Friends and Lovers

(Logan's POV)

_Lily laughed at him. "James, you can be so silly sometimes… Of course Harry will be like you! He's your son, how can he not be?" Harry was playing on the floor, and his toy blocks were floating in some pattern only he could see. "Oh, look! His first magic! And at only a year old, too! Oh, James, he'll be extraordinary by the time he gets to Hogwarts!"_

"_Yeah, Lils, he's your son, too, isn't he? How could he not be extraordinary?" James scooped Harry up off of the floor and swung him around, delighting in his son's giggles. _His son. _Even after a year, he was still in slight shock. Shock that _he_ of all people could have helped create this perfect little boy._

_Time passed, and it was Harry's second Halloween, the first one he would remember. But he wouldn't be able to celebrate it, because they were in hiding. If it had just been James, he would have ignored Dumbledore's warning, like Frank and Alice had; they had the Longbottom Manor, which was Unplottable and had some of the strongest wards in the world. But Potter Manor was in disrepair, and it couldn't be finished by the time they needed to move in, so they had to make do with a Fidelius on the cottage._

_Frank and Alice had offered to let them come to their Manor, but Dumbledore had vetoed it; if the wards were breached, both families would be in danger, and they couldn't have that. So they were going to have a small party with the boys, and hopefully Harry wouldn't resent them once he remembered everything, that he didn't get to act like a normal baby._

_The party was over, and Harry was being put to bed, and then Voldemort came in, and-_

He woke with a roar, claws out, as the memories assaulted him once again. Once he calmed down, he noticed someone leaning against the far wall, idly playing with a playing card.

"You alright, mon ami?" Remy asked casually, and Logan was almost grateful that he was acting like nothing much had happened. Logan sighed and fel back against the sheets, which were ruined. Again.

"Fine, rat. What are you doing here this early?" His internal clock said that it was only a few hours after he'd sent the kids to bed, and therefore Remy probably hadn't slept yet.

"Wanted to talk, Wolvie, 'sat a crime?" Logan motioned for the man to join him on the bed, and slid over to give him the room to do so.

"So talk."

"Harry is your son." It wasn't a question, and the fact that Remy hadn't used his normal thick accent meant he was serious.

"Yeah, he is. And no, you can't do anything to him." He meant it as a joke, but the hurt look on Remy's face made him realize that the other man was actually distressed about something. 13 years of being an unmitigated bastard made it so that he wasn't too clear on how to fix things, but he had to try, and at one point he'd been able to do quite well.

"Remy wasn't thinkin' 'bout dat," the Cajun said, and Logan noticed he didn't have his coat or armor on, a real rarity, especially nowadays.

"Then tell me what you were thinking about, Remy."

"Us." Logan sighed. This was something he'd been trying to avoid, but obviously, avoiding it wasn't working.

"Bobby said you were staring at Harry last night."

"Aesthetic value, mon cher. He's way too young for me." The wry grin on Remy's face made Logan snort.

"Kind of weird, staring at my son and then hitting on me," he commented, pulling the younger man to him.

"Remy neva' been normal, non?"

"True. So. What about us?" Remy settled his head on Logan's chest, and Logan noticed that he was carefully not looking at him.

"Logan know Remy been tryin' ta get you alone, oui? Remy try to leave it alone, but he can't."

"How about we take it one step at a time?" Logan said, feeling distinctly uncomfortable with the conversation. Neither his original culture nor this one looked down on same-sex relationships, and he knew he was far from straight, but it was hard, especially with the memories of Lily cropping up to bite him in the ass. And the fact that he needed to be a father to Harry, and he had no idea what Harry would say. "I can't say I'm gonna be what you need, Remy, and I won't always be able to."

The smile that Remy gave him was like the sun, though, and he found himself settling next to the younger man. "Dat's all Remy can ask, is dat you try." Logan tucked him under his chin and fell asleep, feeling the other man doing the same. Somehow he didn't think his nightmares would be returning.

~*~Harry's POV~*~

Harry blinked slowly as the sunlight washed across his face, and he stretched, completely missing the gasp of surprise from across the room. When he finally looked up, it was to see Bobby, a boy he'd seen the day before and his new roommate, staring at him.

"Good morning," he said around a yawn. "Am I late?" Bobby was fully dressed and putting books into a backpack. From what he'd heard from Scott, the summer classes were completely voluntary, unless you'd failed something over the school year, of course. From the books Bobby was putting in his bag, he was in the former category, not the latter.

"Nah, I'm usually up earlier than most of the students, if you want to sleep in, I can wake you in about half-an-hour. But if you want to get something good to eat, you might as well get up now." Harry nodded and got out of the bed, pulling his Shrunken belongings from his pocket and Unshrinking the trunk to get out some clothes for the day.

Unfortunately all he had was either Dudley's old clothes or the clothing he'd usually wear at Hogwarts, which was way too warm for even Northern New York at this time of year. Bobby, seeing his predicament, threw him a t-shirt which, while still too big, wasn't quite as big as Dudley's cast-offs. His jeans were thankfully the new ones he'd gotten in Hogsmeade at the end of the school year, so they fit fine.

"Ready," he said quietly, picking up the novel he'd gotten from someone for his birthday. Bobby led him down to the kitchen, where Hermione and a sleepy Jubilee sat at the table, waiting for the pancakes that Storm was making.

"Good morning, boys," she said. "Want pancakes?"

"Yes, please, Miss Munroe," Harry said politely, hugging Hermione in greeting before settling himself in the seat next to Jubilee, leaving a seat open next to his friend for Bobby. He'd been smelling the pheromones coming off of both of them since the night before, and it would do Hermione some good to have a little bit of a break from working so hard all the time.

Slowly people trickled in, most of them adults, only some of them students. Harry was surprised when Nightcrawler, or Kurt, as he liked to be called, sat down next to him and adroitly stole a piece of pancake with his fork.

"Good morning, little one," the man said with a grin, dodging the fork Harry attacked him with in retaliation.

"Good morning, Kurt," Harry answered, finally giving up on his retaliation. He felt strange around the blue mutant, like he was perpetually blushing, even though he knew he wasn't. There was just… something about the man, and he knew he shouldn't even be thinking about it; granted, wizards lived nearly twice as long as normal humans, but he had no idea how long the typical mutant lasted, and even if they were in the same generation, it would be weird. And he wasn't about to ask him how old he was.

"So what are you doing today?"

"Well, Bobby has classes, so he can't show me around, and I don't know anyone else around here." He did blush when a slow grin started on Kurt's face, and looked down at his pancakes quickly. He could feel Hermione looking at him and just shook his head silently and continued eating.

"I could show you the grounds," Kurt said, leaning over and stealing another piece of pancake.

"Get your own," Hermione said, touching his hand, and Harry looked up, grateful as he noticed her eyes bleeding back to brown. Kurt quickly made his own pancakes and resettled himself next to Harry, quite close to him. It made him feel good, that someone thought he was attractive, but he really wasn't used to it.

He barely felt Kurt's hand on his lower back before a growl erupted from the doorway. The hand fell away immediately, and Harry slowly turned to see his father and Remy entering the kitchen. Kurt got a look of abject horror on his face and teleported away, leaving a cloud of smoke that smelled strongly of sulfur. Once the smoke cleared, he noticed that Remy was backing away from his father rather quickly, and he sniffed discreetly. They smelled like each other, but not like sex. He decided not to jump to conclusions (and really, what right did he have to say anything anyway?), and simply turned back to his breakfast, and smiled when his father sat down next to him.

"Morning, Dad," he said cheerfully.

"You okay, Harry?"

"Kurt was offering to show me the grounds, since Bobby won't be able to show me today, and I didn't want to trouble you with it."

"You sure that's all he was offering?" Harry blushed again, ducking his head. "Harry. It's okay. He's only a few years older than you." Harry snapped his head up, surprised. His father was _condoning_ a relationship between him and the demonic-looking mutant?

"Dad?"

"With our abilities, we're practically immortal, and mutants usually have a longer life-span anyway. Plus, age of consent is 16, and Kurt's… well, he's not okay, but he'll do."

"Wow… I didn't expect you to be so… cool about this."

"Well, don't get used to it." Harry quickly finished his pancakes, and walked with Hermione and Bobby to their class; Jubilee had eaten and gone back to bed, since she wasn't taking any classes. Once he'd left them, he wandered the halls, getting himself thoroughly lost.

He had decided to jump out a window and go back in through the front doors of the mansion, or just walk around outside, when a soft 'bamf!' alerted him to someone else being present. Kurt was hanging upside down from the ceiling with a wide grin on his elfin face, and Harry smiled in relief.

"Hello, little one, are you ready for the tour?" Kurt asked, dropping to his toes. Harry nodded eagerly and followed the blue-furred mutant through the halls, listening avidly as the older man described everything they were passing, and he soon figured out where he was in relation to everything, since this mansion was nowhere near the size of Hogwarts, and the staircases didn't move arbitrarily.

"So, how long have you been here?" he finally asked, when they were both laying on wide branches of one of the large oaks outside of the mansion.

"I've been here for a few years," Kurt said evasively, and Harry knew better than to pry. Instead, he just stared up through the leaves of the tree, feeling more relaxed than he'd been in over a year, since before the Dark Lord had returned. Being around Kurt was soothing, and he felt like he didn't have to act, that he could be himself and wouldn't be judged. It was a heady feeling, since even Hermione had certain expectations of him, having known him since he was 11.

They both ended up falling asleep in the tree, and Harry yowled in surprise when something hit the tree, shaking him out of it. He twisted instinctively, landing on the balls of his feet on the ground, 40 ft. below him. A large teen had hit the tree, probably as a joke, but looked surprised to see him land. Kurt teleported down quickly, and they both glared.

"Piotr," Kurt said through gritted teeth. "What was that for?"

"Storm said to find you for lunch, Kurt. Who's this?"

"I'm Harry, and I don't appreciate being woken from a nap," Harry said, feeling like the cat he resembled. His fur was standing on end, he knew, and he felt like hissing at the larger teenager. Kurt put a hand on his arm and he calmed down, though he still glared. The large teen led them to the kitchen, where all of the students were crowded around the counter, waiting for their turn to make a sandwich. When they saw Kurt, many of them cheered and cleared the area. Apparently they wanted him to cook. At first Harry just watched, but when Hermione nudged him with a grin, he joined Kurt in preparations.

"What are you making?"

"Kartoffelpuffer," Kurt said, and laughed at the confused expression on his face. "Potato pancakes. Do you want to learn?" Harry nodded eagerly. He'd made something similar once, when a visiting worker from Eastern Europe had come for dinner, but this looked a bit more complicated. He followed Kurt's instructions to the letter, adding in spices when he thought the other wasn't looking. When they finished, Bobby claimed the first one, and Harry waited with bated breath.

"… Mmm, Kurt you should have thought of spicing it before!" Bobby said, grinning at them. Harry felt immense relief, and yelped when Hermione pulled him in for a surprise hug. Once he got away, the students gathered around, crowding him in order to get to the pancakes. Someone stepped on his bare foot and he yowled in pain, trying to get away, but unable to move.

"Stop!" Kurt yelled, and the room fell silent, and everyone froze. Harry slipped out from where he was being pushed into the counter and escaped the room; both of his feet hurt and he'd been hit in the ribs. His healing had already taken care of the actual injuries, but the psychological pain was still there, and he felt tears leaking out of his eyes, against his will.

"…Little one? Are you okay?" He smelled the scent of sulfur that seemed to cling to Kurt no matter where he went, and instead of being offensive, it was comforting. He didn't open his eyes, but leaned into the older mutant when the arms came around him. "Harry?"

"I'm okay. Not used to being crowded like that is all." He sighed as his heartrate slowly slowed down to normal , or at least normal for him. Once he'd fully calmed down, he curled up like the feline he resembled, and fallen asleep, nearly in Kurt's lap.

~*~Remy's POV~*~

He watched from the roof as Harry fell asleep on Kurt, and felt something shift; it really was better to be attracted to the older one than the younger. He turned his attention to the rest of the grounds, and squinted as he saw shadowy figures creeping on the edges of the forest, not quite close enough to the two mutants for either of them to sense.

He pulled his cards out and jumped off of the roof, getting closer to them before throwing four cards in quick succession, blinding the intruders and alerting everyone in that part of the mansion that something was wrong before he pulled out his staff and extended it, using it to vault over to the disoriented people, who were squalling in pain, but trying to regroup themselves. He had just engaged one of them when a furious roar reached him and a streak of black and silver blew past him and Harry attacked them, using his magic and his mutant powers indiscriminately.

Kurt tried his multiple teleportation attack on them, but it didn't work. Hermione joined them and remarked that most wizards were used to apparating, or moving from place to place instantaneously, so this was probably just nauseating from the smell. After that, Kurt moved on to physical attacks, and the fight was over pretty quickly.

Once it was over, Remy and the other X-Men who were involved in the fight looked at the frozen intruders (literally, since Bobby had gotten into the game as well), and then looked at Harry and Hermione, who were looking a bit confused and sheepish.

"What in the hell is going on?" Kurt asked finally. The two British teens exchanged glances and opened their mouths to speak.

A/N2: Okay, so this one got away from me, but I like the way it worked out. Was Logan too OOC or did the first scene with Remy set up that he was getting back to his James Potter personality, at least a little bit?

See you next time.

-Ta!


End file.
